Think about the last time you saw a clown. Was it dead?
Jerking its rigor mortised limbs in an eerie approximation of gaiety? Did a
child toddle up to the clown and tug the hem of its grubby, moth-eaten sleeve
to request a balloon crown, and did the clown's arm detach itself completely
from its socket with a horrible crunch and did the dead, heavy weight of the
arm—and the angle of the yank and the velocity at which it was traveling—all align
so that when the limb fell down to dusty earth, it took the child with it? And
were you not able to get a refund because company policy states that there are
no refunds?

Most probably.

America's clowns are dying.

The New York Daily Newsreports that membership in clown
trade associations is down across the United States. (The Indiana-based World
Clown Association has lost about 1,000 members since 2004, bringing its
membership count to 2,500.) According to industry insiders, the problem is
twofold, like a very simplistic piece of clown origami: old clowns are passing
away, and new ones simply do not exist.

That's because, while America's kids love twerking Mollies
and rainbow party blowjobs (no condoms unless flavored), one thing they
absolutely do not love is looking ridiculous, unless it is via the wearing of seasonally inappropriate slouchy knit caps in summertime.

According to Cyrus Zavich, the president of New York Clown
Alley ("A group of about 35 of the most
professional clowns in New York," per his website), the younger generation's dreams are the president of a professional clown organization's nightmare. Today's students want to
be anesthesiologists and plant psychiatrists CEO's of literally any kind of
business—as long as it's not of the monkeying variety.

"American kids these
days are thinking about different careers altogether. They're thinking about
everything other than clowning."

Glen Kohlberger, president of Clowns of America
International (so many organizations and yet so few clowns!), mourns that promising young
jesters are turning their backs on their talents in order to focus on tasks like
homework and not being clowns. As a result, many performers are not born until their civilian
counterparts hit middle age, at which point they spring into existence like half-formed depressing midlife crisis superheroes.

"What
happens is they go on to high school and college and clowning isn't cool
anymore. Clowning is then put on the back burner until their late
40s and early 50s."